Surprise Party
by sapphire blue-ruby red roses
Summary: America's alone on Christmas, but he gets a call from Lithuania to come help keep Russia under control.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia nor do I own the song **_**Disco Stick**_** by Lady Gaga**

Surprise Party

Christmas, the one time of year that America simultaneously loved and despised. He could throw a huge party, invite numerous amounts of people, drink until he was drunk off his ass, and have loads of fun. Except for this year apparently. This year he was utterly alone. You want you know why? Everybody was out on a fucking date of some kind.

Canada was out with his boss' daughter or something, he wasn't too sure on the details of that one. England and France probably hadn't gotten out the bedroom for their date. Finland was with Sweden, Denmark was with Norway, Estonia was with Belgium. The Netherlands was broodingly following them, acting as Belgium's ever present sentry. Lithuania had finally gotten that date with Belarus he'd been pining for. Sealand had dragged Latvia off to some new amusement park he'd discovered. Italy had somehow managed to drag Germany out to go on a double date with Spain and Romano. Prussia had finally managed to rope Hungary into a date, and Japan was busy being fought over by Greece and Turkey.

He didn't really know all the other European countries too well. He could go hang with some of the South American or Central American nations, but most of them just pissed him off within five minutes. He could also go hang with China and Japan, and all China's offspring or even Australia, but… well… that just wasn't a good idea. Bad things happened and things were set on fire when he got together with either Australia or Hong Kong, and fights broke out when he got anywhere near North Korea. Sometimes, he loved to go over to China's place just to start a fight with North Korea, but not today.

Resentment instantly filled America's chest. He walked past brightly lit storefronts that had refused to close in observation of the holiday, but were still open for those very last minute shoppers. Mainly for those fathers and boyfriends who had forgotten, more like put off, buying gifts for their families or girlfriends and were scrambling for those gifts before it was time for everyone to wake up. Happy couples passed by him in large clumps of pairs of three or four, or in singles.

America really disliked happy couples.

Just as the thought entered his head, a pair of men holding hands a pushing a stroller with a racked out little girl strolled past, looking like the happiest couple in the world. On their left hands were small silver wedding bands.

Silently, America hoped they'd actually either gone up to Canada or over to one of the few states that actually allowed gay marriage to get married. America smiled a small smile, craning his head back to watch them. It filled him with pride that even with all the derision they received and the problems they faced, his people that were gay could still make a life for themselves with the one they loved and be happy.

Sighing, America turned back around. "How come the hero is all by himself this year? The hero should never be alone," he mumbled in self-pity when his phone decided that it was the right time to start spewing the theme song to Captain America.

He frowned pulling his phone from his pocket without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?" he asked tentatively as he pressed the phone to his ear. Why would anyone be calling him at this hour? Wasn't everyone supposed to be asleep by now especially those overseas?

"Oh good, America? This is you right?" a breathless Lithuania asked.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" he asked, surprise sneaking into his voice. Why was Lithuania calling him? They almost never spoke unless it was at World Meetings now-a-days. It's not that they didn't get along, they got along rather well. It was more that he didn't like Poland who was usually always around Lithuania. "Dude, do you know what time it is here?"

"Yeah, sorry about that, but, um, could you come over to Russia's house?" he asked before he let out a loud shout of surprise. What sounded like cloth fell over the phone helping to muffle the all too apparent moan. "Belarus, please stop, I'm on the phone," he pleaded, panting.

"I think not," Belarus said, her voice seductive. Even on the other side of the world, America felt himself responding to her voice. Any man who had any interest in women would be powerless to such a voice.

"So, can you come?" Lithuania asked, his voice still breathless and sounding about ready to break.

"Why would I need, let alone want, to come over to Russia's place? It's nearly two over here," America said even as he was hailing a cab and speeding towards the airport.

"Here, give me that," a new female voice said before a door slammed and Belarus' words were cut off. "America , I'd really appreciate it if you came over. Russia's already started drinking. It'll get wild really soon, and I need help." This time it was Ukraine speaking.

"Why don't you ask someone closer to help?" He wasn't even going to ask why Russia was drinking at nine in the morning. He already knew the answer.

Ukraine sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Because of this."

"_Amerika, become one with Mother Russia_!" Russia shouted in the background.

"That's why, and everyone else is on dates," she said sounding rather unhappy.

"You don't have to tell me twice," America responded, bursting from the car and hurrying to the jet that always waited for him. He stared at it for a moment before veering towards another hanger that house his personal plane that he could fly solo. It looked like a plane from World War II with the engine of a jet. "I'll be there in about nine hours." He ended the call.

…..

America landed after sunset. He was at the Russian's home in under an hour. Even standing down the long driveway in the car he'd managed to rent he could hear the strains of the music they were listening to. He'd come up on the transition from a fast-paced Russian song to an equally fast-paced American song that was all too familiar because it had been over-played the moment it had come out.

Frowning, he let himself into the house. He was instantly bombarded with cheers and whoops and ear-splitting music. Liquor from someone's cup came flying at him. He dodged it, sliding into the living room. He came to a complete stop, staring wide-eyed at what he'd stumbled upon.

The other European nations, Asian nations, and Canada were all crowded around a table that they'd drug into the middle of the room. The furniture was pushed against the room to make room for everyone. A spotlight had been hooked up, shining on the Russian who had taken front stage.

Russia had a cowboy hat pulled low so that the brim cast a shadow over his eyes. He was bare-chested wearing nothing but his scarf, the ends thrown over his shoulders, a banana hammock in the colors of his flag, cowboy boots, and ass-less chaps. Black gloves that only came halfway down his hand covered his fingers that were clutched around the wooden stick to a child's toy. The toy was a fake horse, the kind that only had the plush head of the horse with the wooden stick sticking out of the end. He horse had an American flag bandana tied around its neck.

Russia gyrated his hips to the rhythm of the music, holding his hand to his head with one long-fingered hand. "_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick. I want to take a ride on your disco stick_," thrummed through the room with the voice of a well-known singer in the U.S.

Paper money flew into the air from somewhere in the crowd. "Work it!" Hungary's voice shouted from where the money had flown.

A hand landed on America's shoulder. "Holy fucking mother of hell!" he shouted, spinning to find Ukraine standing behind him, "Why did you have to do that? You scared the hell out of me!"

Ukraine smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just really happy you're finally here," she said throwing her arms around America's waist, "You have no idea what I've had to deal with since I called you. I've only just been able to keep myself from drinking." She pulled away quickly, laughing nervously and running a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, so why is everyone here?" he asked, looking around at the large room that was filled to capacity. He eyes strayed to the Russian still performing on the table. "And why is Russia dressed like a porn star cowboy?"

Ukraine sighed. "That was rather recent. He decided that he could attract you if he looked like a cowboy which he said that you loved. As for everyone else, well, how to explain this…" She trailed off, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, everybody! America's here!" Italy called, spying the America from the other side of the room. In his buzzed state, his personality was even more prevalent than even. That's why he was currently jumping up and down on the couch beside Germany.

The room went deadly silent, and Russia stopped his dancing. He pushed the hat back, his eyes shining brightly. "Amerika!" he shouted.

In unison, the crowd and Russia shouted, "Merry Christmas America!"

America's eyes went wide. He resisted the urge to take a step back. "What the hell?" he muttered.

"Yeah, they all kind of felt bad because you didn't get the chance to throw a Christmas party, so they decided to throw you one. They decided they would throw it for you here since somehow they learned that you were headed over here. Unfortunately, they started drinking long before you got here," Ukraine explained with a shrug, smiling, "They had good intentions though."

"I can see that." He put on a grin as he was crowded against the wall. "Hey guys, why didn't you wait for the hero to get here? The party doesn't really start until the hero gets here! Let's all drink until we drop!" He downed the shot of vodka he was handed, throwing his hands in the air and letting out a shout folly.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Ukraine. "Sorry, Ukraine," he said apologetically, shrugging.

She waved him off. "Don't worry. You go have fun." She turned with a smile and disappeared up the stairs.

"Amerika, Merry Christmas!" Russia shouted as America was deposited in front of him. He dropped down in front of the smaller man, smiling a natural smile that wasn't the childish one he always put on. America felt heat start to coil in the pit of his stomach. "I'm your present." Without hesitation, he took the American's face and pressed their mouths together.

"That's perfectly fine with me," America murmured, kissing back vehemently.

…..

Russia woke the next morning to the slamming of his front door. His hangover beat a violent rhythm on the inside of his skull. Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his forearms, resting his throbbing head in his hands.

"Ugh, what happened last night?" he mumbled, staring around blurry-eyed at his room. He couldn't remember anything from about three in the afternoon on. Clothes were scattered around the room on everything from his dresser to his fan. He was pretty sure that it had all come from either him or what looked like America. His lower body was amazingly sore, but it was a good kind of sore.

Struggling, he pulled himself to his feet, pulling up his boxers once his feet were one the floor. He shuffled from his room, rubbing a hand down his face and promptly plummeted down his stairs. "Eбать!" he growled, rubbing the back of his skull that had slammed into the floor.

"Dude, you okay?"

Lavender eyes snapped open to stare up into sky blue eyes. Russia didn't know how to respond. They stared at each other for several long moments before his eyes slowly lowered to the bunch of flowers clutched in America's arms. His eyes went wide with surprise. "Sunflowers?"

"Oh, yeah," America said sheepishly, a light blush coloring his cheeks, "I didn't get you a Christmas present and everyone crashed here because we had that party, so I thought this was the least I could do. So, Merry Christmas?"

Russia grinned, taking the hand offered to him and hoisting himself up. He took the armfuls of sunflowers, burying his nose in their silky petals. "Did you go out all by yourself and get these?" he asked teasingly, making his way to his kitchen. His table was missing, but at that moment, he didn't exactly care.

America grinned back, proud of himself. "Yes, except that Belarus and Lithuania were standing down the street waiting for me to screw up," he said, dropping his head. He jumped into his victory position, crying, "But I made it through! I even had a small conversation with the flower lady! My Russian is slowly, but surely, getting better!"

Russia groaned quietly, rubbing his temples around his flowers. "Please, Amerika, do not shout. How do you not have a hangover?"

"How are you still able to get a hangover?" America asked condescendingly, but he'd lowered his voice.

Ignoring their light banter, Russia lovingly placed his new sunflowers in a large vase. He ran his fingers softly over the yellow petals, smiling his real smile.

"I think it's cute when you care for your sunflowers," America whispered, running his hands around Russia's waist and pulling his against his body, "To tell the truth, it makes me kind of jealous that you don't look at me like that."

"Oh, I do, you just don't see it," Russia replied, turning in America's arms.

"Really?" America's eyes sparkled happily, wiggling slightly. He looked like the age his body was with the way he was acting.

Russia nodded. He captured the teen's lips, grinning into the kiss. They jerked apart though when a wolf whistle came from the living room. "What the hell was that?" Russia growled, unhappy with being interrupted. He extracted himself from his lover's arms and stomped into his living room.

Russia found the passed out bodies of the other nations scattered across the floor. Prussia smiled lecherously at them, watching them with his head in his hands. He was shirtless laying by a Hungary who was wearing said shirt seeing as she seemed to have lost her dress. "Don't let me stop you, lovebirds. I'm having fun over here."

"Dammit, Prussia, get your own damn sex life," America growled, wishing he could go back a couple minutes and pull the Russian back up to the bedroom.

"I have a very active sex life, thank you very much. The awesome me would never have anything less," he responded confidently.

"What the hell is all of this?" Russia snarled, but his hangover began to throb harder. He growled under his breath, turning and stalking away from the door. "No, I can't deal with this now. I'm going back to bed." He grabbed the vase of sunflowers on his way through the kitchen, holding them close to his body.

"I'm coming with you!" America called, sending one last piercing gaze at the waving Prussia before running after Russia who was already half way up the stairs.

"Merry Christmas, lovebirds!" Prussia shouted at them, giggling like a school girl. Oh, he was going to have to tell Hungary about this encounter. She'd be so jealous.

Russia sighed trying to shut out Prussia's obnoxious voice, sitting on his bed. "It has come to my attention that I haven't told you Merry Christmas yet." He looked up at the American as he closed the door softly behind him.

"Not while sober," America said, taking Russia's flowers and setting them on the dresser.

"Then I guess I should."

America grinned. "You don't have to verbally."

"That's good with me," Russia said, pulling the American toward him by his tie, and pushing him onto the bed under him, "Merry Christmas, Amerika." America just smiled and pulled Russia towards him.

***face palm* I know, terrible ending, I couldn't think of anything else. Anyway, I hope it was worth reading. There really wasn't a plot, I know, there wasn't really supposed to be. It was actually supposed to be a smut fic, but I don't enjoy writing smut fics soooooo yeah, sorry. Did this turn into a kind of screwed up fluff fic without me noticing? Anyway, review please.**

**P.S. - "Eбать" mean "fuck"**


End file.
